


Born of Stars

by Beastrage



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood, Crack-ish, Description of a birth, F/M, Gen, Pre-Canon, Way beyond before Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 19:17:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10342836
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beastrage/pseuds/Beastrage
Summary: Zarkon helps deliver a baby.This is less cracky than it sounds.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Again warning about the birth. I used what I know of a human birthing process for an alien species, but even so, don't take anything in this fic as solid medical advice.

He wakes to voices loudly clamoring in his ears. 

“ _ -rkon? Zarkon? Are you awake?” _

_ “Oh no, what if he didn’t survive? What if he’s dead!?”  _

_ “Calm down, Heffr’y. I’m sure he is alright.” _

_ “Yeah, that Galra survives anything you can throw at him.” _

The Galra in question barely holds back a grunt. He taps at his helmet, checking for any cracks or breaks. Seems whole enough.

He takes a moment to compose himself, before speaking. “I’m alive.”

_ “I knew he was alive, Heffr’y.”  _

_ “Jeta, You did not know for cert-” _

Alfor’s voice at this point cuts in. “ _ How injured are you, Zarkon? How is the Black Lion?” _

 

Zarkon examines the cockpit around him. Many of the screens glow only dimly, not the overly-bright Altean levels of light he’s gotten used to. 

He tries the controls with no success. Dead. 

As for himself, no pain except for a slight throbbing in his shoulder. Paladin armor seems to have taken most of the impact, thin cracks running down the casing. 

Really, there are worse situations he’s been in, than this. 

“The Black Lion is down.”

Alfor stays calm despite this new revelation. Of course he does, Alfor always stays calm. “ _ We are unable to come to your assistance at the moment, the defenses here are really quite impressive.” _

“Destroy the ones in the center first. Those are the most powerful anti-aircraft weapons.” Powerful enough to take the Black Lion down in one hit, is what Zarkon doesn’t say. But Alfor can read between the lines on that one. He’s clever enough, he won’t get hit.

The Galra rises from his seat, carefully making his way towards an exit. 

_ “Zarkon...”  _ Zarkon pauses in his scraping at too-stuck handle. Hesitant and almost too quiet for even Galra ears to hear. Not like the Altean King at all. 

“Yes?”

“ _ The Blue Lion is down as well. Coritas is alive but injured.” _

“I’ll do what I can to help.”  

Zarkon has almost opened the manual exit when he at last gets a reply.  _ “Thank you.” _

 

A rumble in his mind, unease coming off the Lion at the thought her Paladin leaving her to face possible/probable danger alone. 

“Be calm, my heart. I will return shortly.” He runs a gloved hand along her side.

Reluctantly, the growling dies down, leaving a firm assurance that if her Paladin got himself hurt, she would be  _ coming _ after him, low power levels or not. 

A smile. “I don’t doubt it.”

The barest gleam of a particle barrier covers the Black Lion as second skin, protection against any foe who may attempt to steal her.

Zarkon pities the fool who dares.

 

The planet is rocky, which is not a problem. 

What is a problem is the condensation in the air all around him. The dark greyish form of this...wetness makes it difficult to see clearly. 

Some time passes before he can finally make out another Lion in the distance. Cautiously, he makes his way across the slippery stones. 

The Blue Lion stares blankly in his direction, yellow eyes barely glowing. 

Tuning his comm to Coritas’, he asks, “Coritas, are you there?”

Sparks and buzzing. “ _ -m here. Come in.”  _ Weak, clearly injured in some way, judging by the level and tone of voice. 

“Quiznak,” he curses, picking an old favorite of Alfor’s. “I’m coming. Don’t move too much.”

“ _ Trying not to. Argh, it hurts.” _

“Can your Lion open to let me in?”

The clicking of buttons in the background.  _ “Sorry...no power.” _

Zarkon growls. “The hard way, then.”

* * *

The grinding and twisting of metal announces the Black Paladin’s entrance loud and clear. 

When he comes into the cockpit, a blue-and-white armored figure lays curled up her side, on cold metal ground. The Blue Paladin gasps for breath, clutching at her lumpy midsection. 

Zarkon squats next to her. “The injury,” he prompts.

From underneath her visor, he can see huge watery pink eyes looking at him. “No-oo, it’s, it’s the baby.”

The baby. Of course. “You told Alfor you weren’t due for at least fifteen quintents.”

Coritas looks at the Galra sternly, only wincing here and there in pain. “We needed Voltron. You know he would have insisted on me staying behind had he known.”

“True enough. But you’ve risked yourself and everyone else, coming in with such a weakness.”

“My baby is not a weakness!” Coritas shoots back, fire in her eyes.

Zarkon bares his neck slightly in apology. “Still, it’s dangerous.”

“You think? I’m the one lying here, about to give birth in a mechanical lion.”

The Black Paladin considers his options. To be honest, there aren’t many available to choose from. Options that don’t end poorly for everyone, at least. 

He reaches forward, carefully lifting Coritas’ helmet off her head. Her long yellow-white braid trails out, against her back. Pointed ears twitch slightly, as pink eyes narrow at Zarkon. “What are you doing?”

“Keep still,” the Galra orders her. “How far along?” Before Coritas revealed she was heavy with child, Zarkon and other Paladins had known next to nothing about the Altean birthing process. Now...well, Zarkon still didn’t know very much, but he knew enough to know it was  _ disgusting _ . 

“My water broke. Earlier. I can feel the baby. Moving.” Coritas’ breath quickens. “Oh no, I can feel the  _ baby... _ ”

“Focus. Breathe, in and out. In and out.” 

The Altean obeys, breathing in and out on the words Zarkon sets out for her. Thick claws carefully remove armor, the last thing he wants to do in this dangerous environment, but what he has to do, if Coritas is to give birth. 

 

_ Night, it’s moving. Her lump is moving. _

Yellow eyes quickly avert to a flushed face. There is a wetness, on some of the armor he removes. He supposes that’s the ‘water’ Coritas spoke of. 

Her body shakes and moves with each contraction of muscles. 

He struggles to recall anything that may be of use, after so many quintents of Alfor bringing every possible safety precaution up, Heffr’y helpfully offering even more. Now, all he remembers is Coritas’ outrage at the idea she can’t protect herself and Jeta cackling. 

“You would think there would more information on birth-assistance...” Zarkon grumbles under his breath.

Under his breath, but not quiet enough to escape Altean ears, apparently. 

 

The peal of laughter takes him by surprise. “Oh, please don’t- ever- tell- my cousin,” Coritas pants out. “He -would -real-ly make a -video.”

Zarkon  _ does not _ picture  _ that _ mentally. Not at all. (Really.)

“Your cousin is a blight on the universe. Him and his nose-fur,” Zarkon growls. 

A shaking hand pats his own hand sympathetically. “Still -bit-ter about -the -Web-lum -incident, -huh?”

The contractions are closer together now. 

Her eyes widen, fear bright in them. “I -don’t know. If -I can - do -it.”

“You are the Blue Paladin. Nothing is beyond your reach,” Zarkon says firmly, her hand still in his. “Yeah, -but -what -if?”

“You will be fine. Your child will be fine. And,” he adds, faintly remembering  _ something _ , “Don’t struggle. Don’t fight it.”

Coritas says nothing more, focusing on breathing. And birthing the child, he supposes. 

* * *

It’s been hours since this first begun. 

There are body fluids all over the floor. Like Coritas is bleeding to death. Do Alteans bleed to death giving birth, dying in the process of welcoming new life? He doesn’t know.

His hand tightens around hers. 

“You will live,” he hisses, a promise and a threat against the world should she not, all together. 

The Blue Paladin lying on her side, Black Paladin beside her and watching, when the head at last can be seen. 

“There it is.” Zarkon stretches out a hand, before hesitating. 

“Go-head,” Coritas nods at him. 

His claws are not meant for this sort of delicate work. Not meant to handle life tenderly, in a way that will not end it. 

It’s difficult work, but he manages to guide the head, and the little body coming after it, out safely. 

 

He can’t help but stare at it. It’s...tiny. Crumpled up and wrinkled. He hears that Alteans consider their offspring ‘cute’ but the thing looks closer to being unnatural than adorable. 

It’s not breathing. 

A flash of anger, at first. All this effort, all this time, and the thing can’t even make an attempt to live? But anger quickly wears away to concern, of what Coritas will do, if her child dies. Using the back of his hand, Zarkon rubs at the thing’s chest. 

A loud sob and the breathing starts. 

“How...is....the...baby?” Coritas wheezes, curling up even further. 

“Alive. You did well.” He takes a moment to examine the new child further. The purplish shade its skin was before now looks more brown, browner with each new breath. Strands of white fur come from its head, over pointed wide ears. No yellow-white hair, no pale skin. 

It looks like... “Alfor.”

“What?”

“Your child takes after Alfor.”

Coritas sighs in relief, head tilted up from the floor. “Thank the stars. Which is it? Male? Female?”

A quick examination (which causes a small sob to erupt from the mouth) leaves Zarkon confident of his answer. “Female.”

“Give her.” The Blue Paladin holds her hands out, sitting enough to lean against her chair. Zarkon carefully places the child, covered in bloody fluid, in its mother’s arms. 

“Oh, she’s so  _ beautiful... _ I love you. I love you so very much.”

Underneath their feet, the floor thrums. Lights flicker back on. After so very long, the Blue Lion has at last reawakened. A happy growl echoes around the tw- no, three of them.

Coritas smiles, patting awkwardly at the chair she leans against. “Good to see you too. Love you, Blue. You have to see Allura.”

“Allura? Is that its name?” Zarkon asks, eyes on the child. 

“Yes, isn’t it beautiful? Allura, of the stars.”

The Galra sits there silently, patiently while Coritas chatters happily to both newborn and Lion. She seems healthy enough, safe enough. 

 

“ _ -re you there? Come in, Black Paladin.” _

Alfor, of course, sounding as panicked and anxious as ever. “We’re alive and safe.”

“ _ We? So Cor- the Blue Paladin is fine?” _

Zarkon doesn’t even attempt to stop a fond rumble coming out as he answers. “Yes. Perfectly fine. Her and her daughter.”

A moment of silence and then the comms erupt. (Between Jeta and Heffr’y, as usual.)

“ _ You mean Coritas had the baby?! That’s pretty fire-hot!” _

_ “That seems rather unsafe, is she alright?” _

_ “Didn’t you hear, Heffr’y, they’re fine!” _

_ “Excuse me, Jeta, for exp-” _

Alfor at last speaks up over the squabbling pair. “ _ She had the baby? That’s...that’s....” _

“Amazing,” Coritas finishes for him, quietly. 

“ _ Yes. _ ” A claw stretched out, Zarkon only means to touch one last time. 

But eyelids open faintly, a gleam of pink behind them, and the Galra freezes. Freezes and a tiny fist reaches out, gripping the claw tightly. 

“You’ll do great things, Allura,” he says quietly. “Great things.”


End file.
